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In The Sanctuary Of My Head

The Broken-Winged Birds and People (re-edited 4/5/2323 3:03PM PST) (re-edited 11:14am PST 2/23/2023)

The Hell Of Winter (re-edited 4:27pm PST 3/9/2023)

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE



When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

The Way Of The Crow

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

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Not A Good-bye Day (For Our Ghuey)


saved His fur
three small packets of Him
currying it off the carpet
grey-black wisps of smoke

His was the world
and everything in it
and everyone who saw Him
fell in love

whenever I was ill or sad
He was my sentry
kneading near my feet
or tucked within an arm
under the blankets
while I whispered praise and secrets
into His pricked ears

so glad I am
I'd tell Him,
He was my dear friend
and how His friendship
meant more than words could
ever describe
His golden owl-eyes would stare back
into me
and then He'd lick with that rough tongue
and I would release Him into the night

if you love someone
you have to let them go
maybe that was what
the lesson was
He was trying to teach me

He was independent
several times He was lost
or became gravely ill
but somehow
He always returned to us
fought His way back

when He became too sick
it had been too late
I had been too preoccupied
and realized His condition
was grave
after any good could come of it

that last day
we held Him
taking turns
regaling Him with stories
of His adventures
and the day we brought Him home
to be loved
the stories of us

this time He did not move
listened patiently
until she came
His heartbeat fluttered
at the presence of a stranger
He sensed our change in mood

there will be two shots
she said
and this is how it will work
how I disliked her in that moment
her intrusion into our last private moments
was sterile and emotionless

He struggled to use his box then
at that very last moment
dragging himself
His paws nearly useless
and she helped him in
there was no vomiting this time
the medicine having finally worked
He wanted us to know
He was our fastidious boy until the end

how cruel to have this happen now
after His Herculean effort
to show me, us
how He could do better
do His best to be alright now

with the first shot
He was snoring sonorously
His breathing regular not ragged
for the first time in such a long time
I held HIM tightly  
covering Him in kisses and love-whispers
thinking He can still hear me

and then B took Him in his arms
with Him still snoring undisturbed
and I knew it was too early
for me to let go
but it would always be

with the second shot
we lost forever

watching Him go limp
with the light going out of His eyes
His light going out of our lives
we sobbed
inconsolable


(the hardest was
relinquishing His body
in His blanket in the back of
her car...to this day I don't
know what words she mumbled towards us.)



Legal Copyright January 20 2017
for this write/poem/work for Our Boy Ghuey
for this legally copyright site title:
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
by this Author/Momma to The Boy
Melissa A Howells
and Pappa B.
Time stamped 12:47pm PST

this may be imperfect
but working through death
and grief never is perfect,
but a long, sometimes
life-long process








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